


Just a Bit Sad

by orphan_account



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Gen, Introspection, Light Angst, Pre-Game Personalities (New Dangan Ronpa V3), Pre-Game Saihara Shuichi, Suicidal Thoughts, Virtual Reality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2019-10-09
Packaged: 2020-11-28 08:01:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20963171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Danganronpa... what a star of a company. Shuichi would do anything, give everything up, just to get on that stage. Anything but this, as long as it wasn't this life, it was good. It was better.





	Just a Bit Sad

**Author's Note:**

> My pregame au and postgame one are tied together, cause ye. I have my own headcanons for their personalities which,,, tend to widely differ from everyone elses^^; that's what makes it fun, I think!

The alarm shot through his sleep in an instant. A harsh, whining, blaring noise that immediately had him scrambling just to make it _shut up._ There was only a single heartbeat where Shuichi was forced to acknowledge the fact that he woke up.

He woke up, and his head felt thick and fuzzy, his chest held onto its regular, dull, nonphysical ache, and it was sad. The alarm shut off easily. It wasn't anything else. It wasn't detrimental, crisis-inducing, or completely catastrophic, it was just… sad. Shuichi didn't want to, never wanted to, to wake up to face another day, but it wasn't something he couldn't manage. It was normal. No one liked waking up in the morning, let alone going to work or school, so he wasn't unusual in his tired, sad, exhaustion. It didn't matter. He was fine. Shuichi idled in front of the mirror for a moment, blinking slowly at the reflection. Just a completely average person. Nothing special at all. Did he really have to go to school today?

Shuichi's parents would be pissed if he didn't. Well, his mom would be. His dad didn't really mind one way or another, too focused on everything else, anything else, to care about Shuichi's anything. If he skipped again, though, he would just be yelled at. It would be annoying. He wasn't afraid of them, it wasn't anything like that, he was just tired. Listening to someone bark and yell, just because he was too exhausted to show up. He didn't want to. It was inconvenient. Besides, the new episode of Danganronpa: The Truth Rewinds was being released today, and _more than anything,_ Shuichi wanted to watch it.

Of course, he would still watch it if he stayed home. There was just something nice about suffering through the day, only to have something good to return to. Going from a quiet, miserable existence, to being able to turn on the television and get lost in a different world entirely. Where Shuichi is smart. Not with math, that he's failing, or language, he's barely passing, and not even in science, more and more failures. No, he was smart in a way that mattered. Figuring out the crime, the victims, who was the culprit? What would happen next? Then the executions. Flashy, disgustingly detailed shows that tore and maimed the killers, usually sympathetic teenagers who were just trying to survive, and they were always different.

Some of them were brutal, but it was all fake.

It was all just one big show, and the participants would wake up afterwards. The longer you survive, the more you got paid. It was no wonder everyone sang the game shows praises, with how much money it gave out. The participants never seemed too bothered either, and Team Danganronpa assured that the simulation had no long-lasting, physical effects. (Ignore the rumors about their mental health. Everyone's suffering and poor, right? How wonderful then, to suffer with money). It was a win-win situation, and they were loved! How nice, Shuichi thinks, idling his way towards the shower, to be adored by so many. It was a common enough dream, a barely feasible one, to audition for a killing game and to be accepted. Most people try at least once. Young criminals, especially, given a chance to reduce or even eliminate their sentences, just by getting into Danganronpa.

Wasn't that nice?

Shuichi finished getting ready with a quiet sigh. He was tired. His knees ached dully, but it wasn't bad enough to stop him from walking. His backpack was heavy, heavy with books he didn't bother reading and homework he knew how to do, but he didn't. It was heavy in a way that made him want to cry, but he didn't. Shuichi wanted to, he was good at those kinds of things, but when he looked at the papers, it just didn't happen. It felt better to just read new stories about the game, post theories, post his own short stories, and to replay or re-watch old episodes. Shuichi was actually popular in the forms. People loved what he wrote. They liked his theories and debated with him. He was important in those circles. It was so much better, existing in those contexts, when he could ignore school, ignore the piling bills and the threat of losing his home. When Shuichi could mean something to the world that didn't give a shit about him.

School was school. He didn't fail. He didn't get perfect scores. Shuichi was just another average student, who slid under the radar. Well, people knew he liked Danganronpa, maybe a little too much, more than they liked him liking, and Shuichi was too quiet. He didn't know anyone, his friends all graduated and soon he would follow, so Shuichi didn't make any friends. Acquaintances, sure, but there wasn't anyone he could laugh with, talk about his interests with. Anyone he tried, well, they would just get annoyed. It was better to just shut up, and it was better to be by himself. Online, he was cared about. With Danganronpa, he had friends and followers, people who could be proud of him. That made the days pass by easier. As long as someone cared. Anyone. Any second of attention would do.

The day passes by in an instant. One minute he's stepping off a barely-conditioned bus, the next he's getting back on. What happened in class? Did he eat lunch? Did he have homework? Honestly, Shuichi didn't remember. Maybe if he tried, but according to everyone, his parents, the councilors, the teachers, he wasn't trying at all. If this was his best, then Shuichi didn't care. He couldn't care. If he cared about what the other students hissed about him behind his back, barely hidden giggles when he made a single mistake, just _one_ little social misstep, than he would be dead. And Shuichi, if nothing else, would live. Not because he wanted to. Not really. If tomorrow was the day he never woke up again, then he wouldn't mind that at all. Still, the drive to exist was there. Spite, maybe, for everyone who expected him to die.

Besides. There was a new episode of Danganronpa tonight.

Which meant one more thing he could pick apart, study, post about online and receive praise, hate, anything about it. For just a moment, Shuichi would be on a wonderful stage, and he would be the star. He couldn't help himself, sometimes, the way his mouth moved and rambled, the way he typed for hours while ignoring his untouched homework. Why would he care about that? His school will pass him anyways. The school doesn't care. They'll hand him his diploma, and Shuichi can become miserable, sad, and depressed just like all of the other adults! He can struggle and curse and scream at society, while doing nothing to help it. Just like the other adults. Fuck them. Fuck everyone in this damned world.

Shuichi closed the door with a click. It wasn't his fault for being in such a cruel world. Peaceful. Quiet. Yet everyone hates each other. Everyone is struggling to survive. The planet is dying, and some would argue that it's already dead. At least there was something. At least he had something. Anything. Just a scrap to get him by in life, because that was what he was living with. That was what the former generations had gifted them. Scraps. Garbage. Problems that can never be fixed, and animals and plants that will never be seen again. Shuichi… well, he saw pictures of what the world looked like. It was nice. He'd probably like it. Such an awful world now, his mind hummed and cried and did something with that information, it'd be nice. It would be nice if an asteroid would come and destroy everything. If humanity was wiped out. There were so few good things in this world.

And one of them was starting.

It was good. Older fans disagreed, other fans called the simulations 'unethical,' saying that this obsession had gone too far, and even more argued that Danganronpa had lost it's touch after all these years. It was good, Shuichi would always argue. On the forums, he gave good points, would type until his wrists were numb. Offline, he admitted it was just because it gave him something to do. Something better to do. It was interesting! The murders were always getting more convoluted, despite following the same formula, and Shuichi solved them. Sometimes quicker than the show uploaded them. What a good feeling it was, to get a theory correct. It just made him all the more popular. Look how smart he is. Look how cool he is. Even if everyone else calls him weird or strange or anything else they can think of, the other fans think he's good. His 'friends' think he's good.

Except soon it's over. Just another filler episode. Great for character development and shipping fuel, wonderful to get the full scope of their personalities. Who'll be more likely to kill. Who'll be more heartbreaking to lose, because it is so much more fun to lose someone on TV, than it is to lose several people you love. Death rates keep growing, as human capacity was pushed to its limit. Twenty billion people. How lovely it is, to know that this was what humans were capable of. Shuichi watched the end credits. Beauty and hatred, romanticizing murder of all things, because at least fake murder was more fun than the real murder happening outside the doors. Ignore it. Ignore it, and maybe someday someone will fix it, but Shuichi isn't a fighter, and he's too tired to try and fix anything.

Sign-ups are open. His mouth dries a little. Quietly his mind whispers, wouldn't it be nice? It was easy to just submit a form, then they would contact you back and the audition tape would be recorded in their studio. Well, one of their studios. Such a big company, such a loved company, it would have many locations. Some that were in Shuichi's vicinity. Just try. His palms were sweaty, and his arms were trembling. Just the thought was overwhelming. It wouldn't hurt to just try. One little click, one website later, and he would just have to fill out a form. Just try. Please.

His fans would be excited, right? If he got accepted, even if he died first, well, at least he got in. In that community, getting into Danganronpa was like winning the lottery. Even those that were bitterly resigned, because Danganronpa was the only way out of poverty, of prison, of an unjust world, they would be jealous. His classmates might look at him with something other than pity, or thinly-veiled amusement at his personality. Even jealousy would be better than that.

He clicked on the form.

Easy enough questions, standard things, except the last one. What would you want your Ultimate title to be? One answer rattled around in his head, but it was such a common one. Everyone would put it. No one was good enough to be it, yet everyone tried. What a lucky talent to have shoved inside your head! It would be dumb to put it. Shuichi's fingers tapped, tapped, tapped against the screen without his command. Ultimate Detective. A rare role to see. More than anything. All his theories, all of his stories, everything about his online image that he cultivated so carefully! It had to mean something right? Even if Shuichi didn't make it, not even to the auditions, then at least he tried. At least he put forth effort into something that would get him more acknowledgment.

Shuichi closed his eyes and hit submit.

That was it. There was nothing else to do. His homework was in his school bag, it always was, but the teachers didn't even expect anything from him. There was no point. As if his world had sputtered out, as if the lights that were never on to begin with, suddenly flickered and died. Something in his chest curled up, and Shuichi sighed. Sad, he thought, it isn't anything else. Just. Sad. He was tired. What joke, thinking that he could get into Danganronpa.

It was six in the afternoon, and Shuichi curled up in his bed, wishing that he wouldn't have to keep waking up in this body. That he could just… change.

(His wish was granted, two weeks later. Is he happy?)


End file.
